the metallic tang of blood
by The Feisty Rogue
Summary: Bella doubled checked that her knives were secured, both arm and ankles sheathes, and slotted her Glock 17 into her shoulder holster. She pouted her scarlet lips at the mirror, admiring her eyeliner – on point, as the muggles would say. Her most lethal weapon – herself – was ready. *dark themes*


Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)

The Squib Factory: Squib!AU

Treasure Hunt: B5 (Image) . /pin/AZyvdHIwwKg6E-cPJKT1xKY1w-_ZvbiTvMk24q36fqVtBGRBgnMowCw/

Please note Voldemort has no horcruxes in this fic.

 **the metallic tang of blood**

* * *

Bella doubled checked that her knives were secured, both arm and ankles sheathes, and slotted her Glock 17 into her shoulder holster. She pouted her scarlet lips at the mirror, admiring her eyeliner – on point, as the muggles would say. Her most lethal weapon – herself – was ready.

She hailed a cab and got out three streets down from the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, drawing her hood over her head. She was dressed like a witch, for once, although her robes had certain differences – namely, she was actually able to move freely in them.

The butterbeer was smooth as she sipped at it, and she picked herself a seat in the corner of the pub, with a view of all entrances and exits. It had been a long time since she'd bothered to buy herself any wizarding beverage, and it brought back bittersweet memories of her childhood. She glared at the bottle, even as she took another drink.

Cissa walked in half an hour later. No one else of note had entered, so Bella was fairly certain it wasn't a trap, at least not on Cissa's part. Her bottle had long been drained empty, and so she left it on the table as she pushed through the crowd, brushing past Cissa, dropping a mobile phone into her pocket. Bella slipped out the entrance she'd come in, and walked down the road, before withdrawing another phone from her pocket, and calling the one she'd left with her sister.

The phone rang, and rang, but Bella wasn't surprised. Her sister had never been one for muggle technology, and it would likely take a while for her to figure it out. Eventually, she did.

"Hello?" Cissa whispered into the phone.

"Cissy," Bella purred. "It's been a while. Now, now, listen carefully. I want you to go to Kensington Palace Gardens. I'll meet you by the Queen Victoria Memorial."

"What?" Cissa hissed.

"Did you actually think I was going to meet you in the Cauldron?" Bella laughed. "Be there, or not at all, it makes no difference to me." She hung up before Cissa could answer, and tossed the phone in the nearest bin.

She watched as Cissa left the Leaky Cauldron, a scowl upon her face. A few seconds later, someone followed Cissa out the door, and attempted to discretely trail her, using a poor disillusionment charm that might have worked on muggles, but not someone with magical blood in their body. She recognised him as Yaxley. Wizards, as a rule, were oblivious idiots, and so he didn't notice when Bella fell into pace with him.

When Cissa rounded a corner, Bella tripped into Yaxley, and then shoved him into an alley. Before he could yell, or draw his wand, she jammed her knife into the base of his skull, severing his spinal cord. He sagged in her arms, dead. She yanked out the knife, and cleaned it on his robes, before walking back out the alley, those around her none the wiser. Bella smiled.

She followed the roads to the Palace Gardens, tracing Cissa's footsteps. Pulling off her robe, she deposited it into her purse, one that had been magically extended. A robe would only draw more attention to her in muggle London, not less.

Cissa was pacing before the statue, her gaze flicking about the gardens. Bella paused for a moment to drink the sight in. Her once beloved sister looked as beautiful as always, but the look in her eyes was bleak.

Finally, Cissa saw her, and her face lit up.

"Trixie," she said, striding toward her. "Oh, Bellatrix, it's so good to see you."

Bella wrinkled her nose at the use of her childhood nickname, and stood back when Cissa tried to hug her. Cissa frowned, but didn't insist.

"I looked for you," Cissa said quietly.

Bella crossed her arms, and huffed. "Really, now."

"Yes. I was worried about you. Wanted to give you money… or help you, in some way."

"Ha!" Bella sneered. "Because I couldn't live without your help, without you? Because I'm a squib?" she spat. "I'm doing perfectly well for myself, by the way, thanks for asking."

Chagrin crossed Cissa's face. "Maybe," she admitted. "But also because you're my sister. I missed you. I still miss you."

Bella arched a brow. "Hmm. What do you really want, Cissy?"

Cissa closed her eyes, briefly. When she opened them, they were resolute, despite the fear Bella also saw in them.

"I wanted to warn you. There's a man… a dark wizard. The Dark Lord, his followers call him. He's fighting for the pureblood agenda, and he's hunting down muggles, squibs, bloodtraitors and suchlike, especially those related to the Sacred Twenty-Eight that he deems to be an embarrassment. There's a chance he'll come after you."

"And you may as well have led him straight to me," Bella said with disdain. "I had to kill your tail."

Cissa paled. "What?" she spluttered. "You – but how?"

Bella rolled her eyes. "Muggles have been killing each other just as long as we have. Do you really think I'd need a wand to murder somebody?"

Cissa took a deep breath, and calmed herself, just like she'd done as a child. "You are, of course, correct. I just did not think that you would…"

"I would – what? Sink to their level?" Bella cackled.

Cissa didn't answer, but her silence was all that Bella needed to know the truth. She sobered. "Fuck off, Cissy. Go run back to your pansy of a husband. I don't need your help, nor your protection."

Cissa pursed her lips, and her eyes flashed with bitter anger and sorrow. "Very well." Without a care for any muggles about, she disapparated with a crack.

A couple of seconds later, Bella's earpiece crackled to life. "Base to Black, return to base. Over."

"Affirmative, over," she replied, stalking out of the gardens and toward Queensway tube station. Elbowing her way through the masses, she entered a code into a keypad on the wall, and snuck into what appeared to be a storeroom. At the back of the room there was another door, hidden by a rack of shelves that slid out of her way.

Marius was waiting for her, a grave expression upon his face. "Did you have to kill Yaxley?" he asked.

Bella rolled her eyes and yanked out her earpiece, throwing it at him. "M wants me!" she called, striding away before he could reply.

M was at his desk, hands clasped together, eyes closed. His hair was grey, and his face was lined. "Agent Black, do take a seat."

Bella sat, and waited.

A few minutes later M opened his eyes. His gaze was sharp, despite his years. "I do believe we're going to have to deal with this 'Dark Lord'."

It took everything in her not to roll her eyes. "Yes sir. This Vol-"

"Ah!" M interrupted, holding up his hand. "Do not say his name. You know the rumours."

"A load of bullshit," Bella muttered. "Fine. The Dark Lord is threatening the Statute, and it's obvious the Ministry of Magic is doing fuck all. Half of them are in his pocket, anyway."

"Yes, you're right. We need a more… permanent solution." M stood, and withdrew a file from a cabinet that needed a twelve-digit code to unlock. He handed her the dossier. She skimmed through it, and then set it aside.

"Neutralised?"

M nodded. "Can you manage it solo?"

Bella opened her mouth to scoff at him, but then took the time to properly think about it. Cissa had risked a lot, coming to warn her, useless as that warning was.

"Yes…" she said carefully. "Although I may need an extraction team."

"Our resources are yours to command, as usual… Be careful, Black. By all accounts, this Dark Lord is completely mad."

"Yes sir," she replied, and lazily saluted him.

* * *

Voldemort was holed up Malfoy Manor, of all places. Bella camped out on the edge of the wards, using the tree line for cover, her camouflage shelter blending in perfectly with its surroundings. She waited and watched for two weeks, noting down the regular stream of traffic to and from the house. Voldemort rarely left, and when he did, it was with a large group of Death Eaters. They'd return a few hours later, drunk on bloodlust and revelling in their kills. She could still hear Voldemort's high pitched laughter – it chilled her to the bone.

"Mad is an understatement," she reported to M one day. "How he's managing to win a war is beyond me."

"Never underestimate the fanaticism of the insane," M reminded her. He looked tired. The night before, nearly sixty muggles had 'mysteriously' died as their homes were set on fire, with the muggles still trapped inside them.

Bella huffed a bitter laugh. "True enough. My family has a history of madness. Shoot me, if I ever start killing civilians."

The look in M's eye told her that he already had several contingencies plans in place.

The next time Voldemort left with his Death Eaters, Bella shrugged on a stolen invisibility cloak, and crept toward the gates of Malfoy Manor. There would be barely any witches or wizards left inside, and she doubted they were looking for any disturbances, especially those beyond the wards.

She dug nine holes, only a foot or so deep and filled them with C-4, wrapped in layers of cloth lined with nails and other scraps of metal. Each block of plastic explosive was rigged up to a mobile phone, all of which had the same number. She buried the bombs, and scattered leaves and debris over the top of them, in the hope that the area would look relatively undisturbed. It had taken her well over an hour, and once she was done she hastily retreated to her makeshift camp.

Voldemort and his Death Eaters apparated back roughly half an hour later. Blood dripped off their robes, and they were laughing wildly, high from the kill. Bella flipped open her phone, her thumb hovering over the call button, waiting for the optimum moment.

The gates began to creak open, and the Death Eaters crowded forward, Voldemort at their centre.

Bella pressed the button. Her phone began to ring, and so did nine others.

She would never forget the look of shock, then horrified realisation upon Voldemort's disfigured face, just before nine bombs packed full of C-4 and metal fragments exploded. The Death Eaters were blown apart, Voldemort at their centre, and many were killed instantly. Those that had survived lay bleeding on the ground, screaming in pain and fear, their limbs disintegrated, bodies burnt and bones broken.

But, somehow, Voldemort had survived.

"Reveal yourself!" he hissed as he pushed himself to his feet.

Bella laughed, and drew her Glock. Bang! Bang! Bang! The bullets dissolved against his shield, and he turned in her direction, eyes narrowed.

She ran toward him, ducking beneath a spell and threw a grenade, tucking herself down as it exploded. He was flung to the floor, but kept casting spells and Bella was forced to roll forward as sickly green spellfire rushed over her head. Her favourite knife slid into her palm, and she launched herself at Voldemort, knocking his wand from his hand. They fell to the ground in a mad scramble, and she fought to end up on top.

He could still perform magic – she could feel her skin blistering where he touched her, but it didn't matter. She shoved the knife into his chest from where she straddled him, cracking his sternum. Once, twice, thrice, blood gushed out from the wound, his atrial septal pierced. She stared into his eyes as the light in them faded away.

Voldemort was dead.

With a groan, Bella stood. Her arms and sides were bleeding and burnt where he'd touched her, but she could still walk, and more importantly, reach the extraction point.

"MASTER!" somebody howled, and Bella threw herself to the dirt as a wizard, now missing his left arm and ear, hissed spells at her, his eyes crazed. She drew her Glock, and double tapped him in the head, too fast for him to shield, and he died just as his master had.

"Black for extraction," she said into her earpiece, and limped away, leaving the carnage behind. Cissa could clean it up, for all she cared.

Fuck 'em all.

Bella laughed, wild and free, vindicated. She hadn't realised how much she'd needed to prove herself superior, no matter that she was a squib. She wondered if this was how it had felt to them, returning from their killing spree.

Marius was waiting for her with the car engine running. He silently handed her the first aid kit, then gunned the motor once she was strapped in.

"Are you satisfied?" he finally said.

Bella tilted her head, and licked her lips. They tasted salty, like sweat, and the metallic tang of blood.

"Oh yes," she said, and smiled.


End file.
